


Kjærleik er å vilja vel

by Squoxie



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:00:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25935562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squoxie/pseuds/Squoxie
Summary: To love is to wish one another well - and Cedric really wishes for Ciaran to feel good, for the two of them to feel good together.
Relationships: Cedric/Ciaran aep Easnillien
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	Kjærleik er å vilja vel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thechemicalgirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thechemicalgirl/gifts), [gridelinCarver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gridelinCarver/gifts).



> Sooooo I wrote this. It's sort of a connected thing to a literate RP I'm doing, which means it's not particularly connected to my other writings, but I may or may not have been told that NOT posting it would deprive people of wonderful content, so post it I have x3 
> 
> Note, too, that it's a younger Cedric in this story, by quite a lot. Not so downtrodden yet!
> 
> Do enjoy.

Cedric laughs, kissing Ciaran on the tip of his nose and gripping his shoulders. Firm, but gentle, too, rubbing circles with his thumbs.

“Ciaran,” he says softly, fond mirth threading through his voice. “We have danced back and forth like shy elflings, and however much I enjoy it, I really must ask you to make a choice what you want. I wish to give you anything and everything, I wish to feel you, I wish to taste you, but only,  _ only _ , if that is what you too wish for.”

Ciaran, unsurprisingly, blushes a bright and fetching pink, the colour spreading over his cheeks and ears even as he gives an almost nervous laugh. It is rather an abrupt choice Cedric has given him, but even so, he swallows, licks his lips, and nods.

“I- do. I do wish for it. I am merely overthinking so many things. But I know that my answer is yes, Cedric,” he says. His tone is firm, as is the conviction in his honeyed eyes, the banked flame of lust flaring within them. Cedric, smiling, leans forward and kisses him. There is no hesitation in him. He wants, he desires, and Ciaran is willing, Ciaran yearns and craves just as much as he. So why, then, be hesitant?

He moves his hands, pulls Ciaran closer, and deepens the kiss, slips his tongue between pliant lips and relishes in the startled, pleased little gasp from Ciaran. The younger elf responds eagerly, clutching at Cedric’s tunic with one hand, the other sneaking up to the base of his skull, fingers gripping at the loose hair just enough for a slight pull. Cedric moans in appreciation, leaning his head back into it, and allows Ciaran to take control of the kiss with a breathless chuckle.

Ciaran kisses like he acts – a slight veneer of hesitance not masking competence and humour. They part for air, and he nips at Cedric’s lower lip, soothing the bite with a touch of tongue. He doesn’t let go of Cedric’s hair, rather the opposite; he pulls gently, prompting Cedric to crane his head back further.

“Is this- alright?” Ciaran asks, and Cedric hums in affirmation, a shiver running down his spine. He very much has a thing for having his hair pulled. Ciaran, emboldened, starts kissing and nipping down the side of his neck, before sucking lightly at his collar bone, tracing tattooed vines and leaves with his tongue. Cedric moans unabashedly, his hands slipping down to Ciaran’s backside to pull him closer, pressing up into him to let him feel just how much he is affecting Cedric. It makes Ciaran gasp, almost whimper, his own hardening length more than evident.

Cedric takes the chance given, Ciaran’s grip slacking on his hair, to lean forward and pull his tongue up along the lower edge of Ciaran’s ear. Ciaran shivers visibly, tilting his head to offer better access, even as he cheekily rolls his hips, making Cedric utter a soft curse under his breath. He nips at Ciaran’s lobe in playful reprimand, careful, very careful, and smiles with satisfaction at the whine that results in.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmurs, appreciating the instant shiver from Ciaran at the sound of his voice, soft, low, so close to the ear. “Clumsy, lovely fumbles, here, hardly remembering clothes may well be removed? Slow, exploring, lying in grass and moss, nature teasing warm, naked skin? Or maybe pressed up against a tree, hot breaths shared, a strong support at the back while legs are locked around a waist? Do you want me to fuck you, Ciaran, do you want to fuck me? Tell me, lovely darling. What do you want?”

Ciaran’s skin flushes so brightly Cedric can feel the heat of it. He laughs softly, raising a hand to caress Ciaran’s cheek gently. “Perhaps you prefer the wording ‘make love’?” he teases. “Rest assured, whatever one wishes to call it, there is not a motion made that is without love.”

“Cedric!” Ciaran protests, trying to bite back a crooked grin. “I am not a blushing virgin!”

“You  _ are  _ blushing,” Cedric retorts, kissing his cheek. Ciaran turns his head to catch his lips in a proper kiss, still blushing hotly, but smiling.

“I don’t know what I want. I just want you,” he declares, before averting his eyes shyly, biting at his lip. “Truth be told, I… don’t have much experience past fumbling. I’ve only ever had sex proper… well, the once.”

Cedric nods, not overly surprised, but not minding the least either. “Then let’s explore,” he says kindly. “We have time. Let’s discover what pleases you the most, what makes you gasp and cry out for more. Let’s determine what you want through trying, testing, feeling. Agreed?”

“Yes,” Ciaran agrees, the assertion firm and breathless at the same time.

“Come,” Cedric implores, pulling Ciaran along to where he knows the ground is soft and comfortable. He sits, and, once Ciaran does the same, tugs the younger elf onto his lap. The previous ardour has cooled, but only to a comfortable level, fires easy to stoke, and they have time. Cedric wishes to do this  _ right _ ; there is no need to hurry.

He strokes his hands along Ciaran’s sides, tugging questioningly at his shirt with a smile, and Ciaran nods, making a soft noise of desire when Cedric then slips his fingers under the shirt to lay his hands on silky, warm skin. He invites Ciaran to another kiss, even as he moves his hands up, shoving the shirt by his wrists. Ciaran enthusiastically welcomes the kiss, shifting in Cedric’s lap to allow for more leverage in responding, something that also makes him practically grind against Cedric, drawing gasps from them both.

He moves his hands further up, brushes Ciaran’s nipples with only a teasing touch, before prompting the other elf to raise his arms, cutting the kiss only briefly to remove the entire shirt, tossing it aside before drawing Ciaran back in into a decidedly sloppy kiss. Ciaran moans with approval, before pawing at Cedric’s tunic, sucking at his lower lip. Cedric directs his hands lower, to the belts cinched around his waist, and kisses Ciaran’s cheek, his brow, the corner of his lip, as deft fingers make quick work of the belts, allowing for the tunic to be shoved off as well. It ends up tossed by Ciaran’s shirt, to be forgotten in favour of skin to skin, Ciaran tracing Cedric’s tattoo with his fingertips, teasing the sensitive plane of his stomach.

With another laugh, he allows himself to fall backwards into the soft grass, his hair haloing messily around his head, Ciaran now straddling him proper instead, his pupils blown wide.

“Well, darling?” Cedric purrs. “Where do we go from here?”

Ciaran smiles, mischief flashing in his eyes, and he rolls his hips down with intent, making Cedric moan and buck up in response, seeking the wonderful friction. Ciaran’s lashes flutter, even as he bends down to kiss Cedric again, an action now immensely enhanced by the heat and pressure of their hard cocks separated only by a few layers of fabric.

“You keep asking what I want,” Ciaran pants. “But what about you? You said you wish to feel and- and taste me, so do that then.”

Cedric chuckles, not bothering to hide the way his own breath is short, the way he is feeling very much aflame, heat sparking through his body. He’s enjoying himself immensely as it is, but he’s not at all opposed to exploring Ciaran’s body, mapping it out, knowing it as intimately as he knows his own.

“Oh, I will,” he says, and promptly rolls them over, savouring the startled gasp Ciaran gives as he’s pinned down by the shoulders. Cedric kisses him chastely, nothing more than a peck on the lips, before following the line of Ciaran’s elegant jaw with his lips, brushing the skin up to his ear, kissing the pointed tip of it. Down, then, to the unprotected throat, kissing and licking his way down the column of it, enjoying the salty taste on his tongue and the way Ciaran shifts and seeks more contact with soft, lovely moans.

He bites down on inked vines, curling lines, and sucks on the flesh, coaxing blood to flow, before pulling back to watch purple bloom on Ciaran’s skin, marking him as surely as the tattoo does. Marking that for however long, he is Cedric’s, as Cedric is also his. He smiles.

“Cedric,” Ciaran breathes, eyes barely open, lashes fluttering against his cheeks. What else he intends to say is drowned by a moan, as Cedric descends further to envelop a dusky-coloured nipple with his lips, curious as to whether that too is something Ciaran might enjoy. From the sound of it, it very much is. Cedric swiftly shifts his grip, one hand to the ground in support, the other then free to tease Ciaran’s other nipple, tracing circles with a fingertip, even as he very gently nips the first with his teeth. Ciaran’s hands, gripping at the grass, comes up to grip Cedric’s back instead, blunt nails digging into the flesh. The sting of it arouses Cedric even more, his cock hot and hard and straining the front of his trousers.

A glance reveals that the case is much the same for Ciaran, though, Cedric can rather feel that too, even if they’re not pressed quite as close owing to the position he is in. He wants to remove the rest of the clothes, wants to see Ciaran fully bared and proud of it, hesitation gone, but is loath to abandon his current activity.

The compromise, then, is to switch to using his mouth on the other nipple, switching which arm he leans on, and slip his hand further down. He traces whimsical patterns, delighting in finding spots that makes Ciaran shiver, fingers dipping down beneath the waistband before retreating. Then, blowing air on a wet nipple, he cups Ciaran’s hard cock through his trousers.

Ciaran rocks his hips with a loud, unashamed moan. “Please,” he whimpers. “Cedric, touch me  _ properly _ !”

“Patience,” Cedric replies teasingly, shifting his grip, feeling just how hard Ciaran is. Truth be told, he doesn’t have the patience to wait much more himself, not when he too aches for it, to touch, to be touched. He sits up, withdrawing his hand in a slow motion, kneading the hard flesh, and then goes about undoing the ties of Ciaran’s trousers without further ado. Once loose he slides both trousers and smallclothes down, Ciaran eagerly lifting his hips to make it easier, and soon enough, the gorgeous elf is bare and exposed.

“You’re so very lovely,” Cedric breathes. Exquisite. A vast expanse of silken skin, a smattering of scars, the tattoo winding up one arm to curl around the neck, the faint blush extending from Ciaran’s cheeks and ears down his neck and torso, he is absolutely beautiful. And further down, his cock is all but weeping, the tip rosy in colour. 

Cedric bends down, and draws his tongue from base to tip. Ciaran’s breath hitches, his hips twitching, and Cedric smiles crookedly at him, pressing a kiss into the hard flesh.

“Is this alright with you?” he asks.

Ciaran nods. “Yes,” he affirms, his voice trembling. From lust, Cedric thinks, but…

“If it’s too much, you must tell me. At any point,” he says. “We both should enjoy this because we  _ can _ , not because we must.”

“It’s not too much. I am- I am overwhelmed, yes, but only in good ways, Cedric, I swear.”

Cedric inclines his head, taking the words at face value. If Ciaran means he is well, then so it is. He has every intention of remaining vigilant, however. There is tremendous vulnerability in what they are sharing, not only physically but emotionally, and that’s what makes it such a wonderful thing to share – but it means care must be taken, to assure all parts involved feel well.

Ciaran shifts his hips, quite pointedly, and Cedric chuckles. Perhaps less thinking and more action, then. He gives Ciaran’s cock another, slow stroke of the tongue, before enveloping the weeping head in his mouth with a contented hum. Ciaran moans softly, his hands ripping loose grass from how tightly he clenches them. Cedric swirls his tongue lightly, enjoying the salty-sweet taste, before dipping his head lower, lower, lips stretching as he takes in Ciaran’s cock entirely. Ciaran cries out, loudly this time, and his hands relocate to Cedric’s head, digging into his hair, gripping it just enough to pull faintly. Cedric groans, a shiver running through him.

Ciaran pulls more on his hair, intent behind it, and Cedric allows his head to be pulled up, pressing his tongue into Ciaran’s cock as he does, sucking gently and drawing exquisite whimpering noises from the younger elf. Then Ciaran hitches his hips up, thrusting carefully into Cedric’s mouth, and  _ oh- _

“O-ok?” Ciaran asks, and Cedric can only give a dazed moan of agreement, somehow managing to make an affirming motion with a hand. With Ciaran gripping his hair so lovely and firm, the control is in his hands now, and Cedric, unexpectedly, finds that it sparks heat throughout him, his cock becoming impossibly harder. He has always been the one in control while doing this, in control of the pace, of how much he takes in, but this- there is something incredibly tantalising with the idea that he is somehow reliant on  _ Ciaran _ ’s choice of action. He can take control back easily, he knows, and yet, he… doesn’t think he will. Not yet.

Ciaran moves again, almost timidly, and Cedric’s lashes flutter as he relaxes his jaw further, giving a pleased, breathless moan. The grip on his hair tightens, a bit of weight applied to coax him to bob his head down again, and he gladly follows the directions given, hollowing his cheeks and groaning. Ciaran whines loudly, his entire body trembling. How beautiful a rapture, how wonderful a loss of composure.

Cedric palms himself through his trousers, whimpering, even as he lowers his head until he has taken Ciaran’s cock in entirely once more, can feel it tickling the back of his throat. Ciaran pulls lightly at his hair again, and he withdraws up, up, sucking gently at the head until Ciaran pulls a bit harder on his hair. With a last swipe of his tongue, he withdraws entirely, breath short. He hums questioningly, frankly still feeling a bit dazed, and Ciaran releases his hair to instead cup the sides of his head, pulling him over and down into a messy, open-mouthed kiss.

“I want- will you-” Ciaran stammers breathlessly, cheeks flushed before he rocks his hips up, grinds into Cedric with a soft gasp. “Will you fuck me?”

Cedric makes an amused, lustful noise of agreement, pressing a kiss to the corner of Ciaran’s lips. “Of course. Let me just fetch something, hm?” he hums. Ciaran nods slowly, something curious in his gaze, even hazy with lust as it is.

Cedric manages to climb to his feet somehow, despite wanting nothing more than to press their bodies close together, but he swiftly strips his trousers off, relieved, and strokes himself a few times, can’t resist, before swiftly moving over to his variety of supplies. He finds what he wants easily – a small vial of oil. Spit works well enough if necessary, but something more lubricating, he finds to make the whole process so much easier and more enjoyable.

He returns, smiling crookedly at Ciaran, who has propped himself up on one elbow, watching him with a mix of curiosity and trepidation. He’s a magnificent sight, lying naked in the grass, a fetching blush over his cheeks and ears, his cock standing hard and proud. He looks comfortable where he lies, comfortable in his nakedness, and it makes Cedric smile even wider, kneeling and pushing Ciaran on his back again, kissing him. It’s so wonderful to kiss, to keep kissing, lips to lips, tongues dancing, wet, hot, tantalising.

“What’s that?” Ciaran questions once they part for air, eyes hooded. “What did you fetch?”

“Oil,” Cedric answers easily, nuzzling Ciaran’s cheek. “Almond oil, to be specific. So I hope you’re not allergic to nuts, dear squirrel.”

Ciaran snorts, shaking his head with a smile. He lifts his hips somewhat pointedly, tongue flicking out to wet his lips as the only show of disquiet, and Cedric hums, kissing him chastely. On the lips, on the cheek, on the edge of the ear. Then he starts peppering kisses down Ciaran’s throat as he climbs to kneel between his legs instead, adding another bite mark across the tattoo, brushing over a nipple with his lips. Ciaran writhes, soft moans issuing from his throat, only to completely still at the soft pop of the cork being removed from the vial.

“Relax,” Cedric murmurs, pressing gentle kisses into the soft but muscular plane of Ciaran’s stomach. He coats his fingers in the oil, reaching down between Ciaran’s legs, brushing the sensitive inside of his thigh, and presses just gently at the ring of muscle he finds there. Ciaran whimpers, tilts his pelvis for easier access, even as he bites his lip, not quite relaxed. It’s fine, there is no hurry. Cedric rubs his fingers in gentle circles, massaging the tight muscles, and moves his head to Ciaran’s lovely erection, pressing a firm kiss into hard flesh.

Ciaran makes a plaintive noise, impatient, which then turns into a soft gasp as Cedric slips one finger into him, pushing past the tight ring. Just a bit, barely past the first joint of his finger. Teasing, coaxing the muscles to accept the intrusion, to relax, to allow his finger to slip in further with just the slightest push.

He takes his free hand to Ciaran’s cock, stroking the base of it, his tongue taking care of the head, lapping at the slit with teasing attention to detail, luring a moan from Ciaran, who relaxes further, allowing Cedric’s finger to push inside fully, to move and curl inside of him. Then, a second finger, careful but firm, pressing inside. He curls them both, pulls them apart, searches within for one particular spot-

“Ah- Cedric!” Ciaran cries out, bucking wildly, and Cedric chuckles, moving his head back, rubbing the found spot with his fingers gently, teasing the bundle of nerves hiding within. Ciaran twists in place, lips parted and eyes closing with a flutter of lashes, expression somewhere very close to rapture. Cedric loves seeing it, loves knowing that his ministrations are what causes such exquisite pleasure. He presses in a third finger, just to be sure, he wants there to be little to no chance of pain from hasty lust. His cock aches, a tormenting pleasure, but for him, the most important part is that precious Ciaran has a wonderful experience. Especially since it is something that he has so little familiarity with. Cedric wants him to know just how good it is possible to feel, he wants him to know it  _ should  _ feel glorious and fun and light-hearted and serious all at the same time.

Ciaran whines, his throat bobbing as he swallows, trying to catch his composure. “Cedric…” he says, asks,  _ pleads _ . “Won’t you please-?”

“Oh?” Cedric teases. “You’ll have to be clearer, darling. How else can I understand what you want?”

“I  _ want  _ you to  _ fuck me _ !” Ciaran blurts. “ _ Please _ , Cedric!”

Cedric chuckles, retrieving his fingers. Ciaran is trembling, more grass coming loose in his hands, but Cedric feels almost shaky himself too, breath uneven and skin feeling so very, very warm.

He takes the oil in hand again, and curses low under his breath as he coats his hard flesh in it, the cool oil creating an almost intense sensation against the heat. He is generous with it, even with all the preparation done. And finally, he shifts, pushes Ciaran’s legs apart, hands stroking his inner thighs.

“Are you-”

“Yes! Yes, yes, please!” Ciaran cuts him off, trying to shift closer.

Cedric laughs, and finally, finally pushes in, sinking into the tight heat. He groans, a tremble running through him. Ciaran’s head falls back, his lips parted to allow for a breathless gasp, lashes fluttering as his hands once more dig into the ground.

Taking a shaky breath, Cedric leans down and kisses Ciaran firmly. Ciaran rocks his hips, whimpers, and kisses back enthusiastically, his hands coming up to clutch at Cedric instead, blunt nails digging into his skin, pulling them closer and closer as if to make them be as one.

He moves, gentle, careful, and swallows the immediate sound from Ciaran’s lips, licking into his mouth, near breathless with how good it feels, the friction, the heat, their bodies pressed together. He thrusts into Ciaran, firmer, whimpers at the way Ciaran bites at his lower lip, at the way he moves his hips into the thrust, wordlessly demanding more.

“You feel” –he snaps his hips forward– “so good. Gods.”

“It’s so – more, please-!” Ciaran begs, moaning unabashedly when Cedric obediently picks up the pace. He meets every thrust with passionate enthusiasm, his entire body quivering. The sounds he emits makes Cedric bite his lip, makes him bend down to kiss Ciaran’s cheek, the edge of his ear, makes him place small bites and licks down Ciaran’s throat, adding yet another mark between the curling vines of the tattoo there.

Ciaran clenches around him. “I’m- so close,” he whimpers.

“Already?” Cedric asks, teasing, but he’s not surprised, nor very far off himself.

Ciaran groans, pressing up against him, his arousal pressing into Cedric’s abdomen. “ _ Yes _ !” he whines. “Let me– give me– Cedric!”

Cedric gives a breathless laugh, straightening up to get more leverage, allowing him to thrust deeper, one hand going to Ciaran’s neglected cock, stroking him, drawing a high-pitched moan. He can feel his own climax building too, climbing, climbing, making him entirely dizzy with it.

A hard thrust, and then Ciaran tightens around him, and comes. The expression he makes, the soft gasp of a moan, it makes Cedric shudder, even as he hunts his own finish. It takes him little more than a few slow, deep, motions, before the heat in his abdomen explodes, flares, spreads throughout his body in a moment and an eternity all at once. Boneless, he sprawls over Ciaran, hides his face in the crook of Ciaran’s neck, breathing in the smell of him, sweat and sex and something sweet, something musky.

“You are… a terrible tease,” Ciaran says.

“Mhm,” Cedric hums in agreement. He is. “Don’t think you minded too much.”

Ciaran gives a soft snort, and Cedric can hear the smile in his voice when he speaks next. “When I feel as if I can stand on my feet again, shall we bathe?”

Cedric smiles into Ciaran’s tattoo, shifting to slip his softening erection out of him, to lie a bit more comfortably. “A clever idea. Once you can stand. Perhaps we ought to help each other, make sure we get properly clean, hm?”

Ciaran laughs, nestling closer. “Maybe. I’d like to… just stay here for a bit though. With you.”

“I’m not opposed to that either,” Cedric replies warmly. 

**Author's Note:**

> Ah, and as always, the title is a lyric from one of Gåte's songs, this one called "Kjærleik" or "Love", and the title text is directly translateable as "Love is to wish well", but closer in meaning to "To love is to wish one another well" as written in the summary ;3
> 
> Also! Do you enjoy yelling about these elves in particular, or witcher in general? Come yell with me and my lovely friends on discord! https://discord.gg/8M79ymR


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